For the past few days, I felt this bubbling anxiety trying to throttle out of my system. It finally dissipated on July 28 when I decided to accept the reality of adding one to my age. I have finally turned 25 – my silver year in this world. There’s really nothing exciting that happened today, but for a change, I went to the office and not filed a leave. It was fun to be with people you really like and it makes you feel more positive about the reality of getting older. July 28 is just the bucket of water that just snaps you out of your reverie.
When I think of 25, one of the qualms that entered my mind is that I finally changed an age bracket. In surveys, I am not part of the 18-24 age group, but now the upper 20s. It’s quite a big leap personally that really shook me to the core. I am definitely older in writing, but I question my wisdom at this point. Is my 25-year worth of experience enough to push me further in life? Of course, a lot of people have traversed life with more or less experiences and they still thrive. It’s the big part of me that enjoys the safety confines of my comfort zone that screams about this issue actually. I want to move forward with big and important decisions that will alter my path in life, but I worry on the uncertainty of the direction it will lead. Will I succeed in the end? If there is a clear formula for it, that’s what I want but as usual, life cannot be boxed to a finite form. I am stuck with actions, decisions and hopes that what I do at the moment will be something I will not regret in the future.
I am scared shitless on what will happen, but I know that there is always something to look forward to. I know that a future is always present whatever I do or whatever history I have. Will it always be rosy? Definitely not, but all I can do is live the present and hope that it is for the best. On my silver year and every year after, all I want is just to be fabulous.
To the next 25!
PS: Thanks to all who greeted me a happy birthday! I heart you all!